So Let Me Explain You A Thing
by TazerMoose
Summary: Okay, so... I've been roleplaying this pairing (Sam Winchester x Darcy Lewis) for a good few months, near a year now. It seems to have gained some popularity among Darcy fans, so I thought I'd explain the giant headcanon AU that brought them together by visiting different points in their lives. Expect regular updates. Enjoy.
1. Seven - According To Darcy

_Seven - According To Darcy_

She sat at the kitchen counter, Darcy's little legs kicked to the bouncing beat of the music she'd put on when she came home from school. Elvis. Every afternoon before her mother came home, she played the old cassette in an even older cassette player that her aunt had given her last time she'd cleared the attic.

Colouring in a bright red dragon, of course. She'd not drawn it herself, she just liked colouring books. Amber said they were for babies, but Darcy figured she could be as much of a baby as she wanted when no one else was around. So she hummed along to Blue Suede Shoes and felt rather at peace, for one so young.

Then mom came home. Hearing the car door slam, Darcy glanced out of the kitchen window to see her mother. She didn't quite know why, she just always retreated to her room while her mother cooked dinner, feeling that she only got in the way. And so she gathered up her crayons, running upstairs, colouring book held to her chest.

It wasn't that she was hiding, so much… But she was. She'd done something bad today. Or something that, at least, her mother probably didn't want her doing. And so she waited for her mother to find her in the first place. Sure enough, there were soon footsteps on the stairs and eyes on her as she lay on the rug, colouring once more. The folded arms in the corner of her eye.

"Did you have a good day at school today?"

That familiar voice using the familiar excuse to call her out on something. School was fine, school was always fine. It just was what it said on the tin, school. Never any problems with bullies, she always had friends, and she did okay as far as grades went. So school was always fine, and that was what she mumbled quietly as she coloured a princess' hair a bright orange.

The faint and distant sounds of Elvis still echoed from the kitchen, the only other thing in the silence between them. "Mrs Parker, across the street. She said she saw you talking to a lady at the door today when you came home from school." Her mother asked, still trying to get away with being non-accusatory. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

And so Darcy shook her head, not really keen on talking. Otherwise she'd have complained. _That lady _is my grandmother, she thought, and had been for the first five years of her life. Why that had to change because dad ran away with a pot dealing hippy bitch, Darcy wasn't quite sure. Well, she'd never met said pot dealing hippy bitch, but that was what Mom called her in hushed phone calls with her own mother, it had just stuck.

"Darcy, you're not allowed to see that lady any more, you know that. So just stop answering the door when she's there, okay?" At that the young girl rolled her eyes, pushing her frankly ugly pink glasses back up to the bridge of her nose as she continued colouring. "Darcy. Are you listening to me?"

So she decided to be cheeky here. Of course, she didn't do it usually because it was much more fun to curse at your mother in your head and not get told off for it than actually do it and have to sit in the time out corner for a half hour. She was seven. Like hell was she doing time outs, they were for toddlers.

"Nope." she replied, a lazy little pop sound on the 'p' as she shook her head slightly. And so she awaited a reaction, almost a little worried about it, if she was honest. But what was the worst her mom could do, huh?

"I give up with you. I work really hard to look after you, Darcy. And you never listen to anything I say, I swear. One day you'll regret it because I won't be there to look after you, you know." Her mother sighed, turning on her heel and heading back downstairs.

Well. That was hardly expected. Darcy stared at the spot where her mother had stood for a moment, wondering what that was all about. She usually shouted. There was usually a time out or she had to wash up. But Mom just seemed… sad. But the girl shrugged it off, as much as she could, and continued colouring, for all it was worth.


	2. Thirteen - According To Sam

Thirteen – According to Sammy and Seventeen – According to Dean

Starting at a new school was horrible for Sam. Always the new kid, he could never finish more than two weeks any where with out having to leave and he hated it. He couldn't make friends. Well, he could, but he never managed to keep them. Loneliness seemed to just follow him around, like some form of ironic constant friend.

Well, he had Dean. Always had Dean, of course he had Dean. But the elder Winchester was much more interested in cars and girls and being a hunter than the younger was, and so he found himself wanting other kids his own age to hang around with. Ones that went to the same school all the time and had lived in the same house all their lives. Ones that weren't born into a family of hunters, basically.

So there they sat, under the largest tree in the park of the latest grey little town they'd found themselves in while Dad went on a hunting trip. Well, it was less grey than usual. For once the sun shined on the Winchester brothers, if only for an afternoon. Dean asleep in the shade of the branches of the great tree, dozing peacefully, so Sam decided to leave him there.

His gaze turned instead to the others at the park, other kids lying in the dying grass and laughing with their friends, playing a half-hearted game of catch, throwing leaves at each other for the hell of it. Sam longed to join in, he really did. But he couldn't. He was a stranger, it would have just been weird.

So he grumbled to himself for a little while, before his gaze settled on a girl beneath a tree of her own. Brown hair that fell in curls and a pair of suitably dorky purple glasses framed her eyes as she stared down at whatever she was drawing in front of her. He watched her for about as long as he did the others, before his eyes moved on to something else.

A group of boys heading the same way. They looked older, somewhere between his and Dean's age. Sam heard their laughter float on the breeze, it didn't sound in the least bit pleasant, but he couldn't do anything. He just sat there, being a stranger, while the feeling that they were up to something rose in his stomach.

He hadn't noticed the bottle of water they had, then he could have guessed, he supposed. But it was a little too late once it had been 'accidentally' thrown over her and her sketchpad. They stopped to laugh at her initial surprise, of course. How she stared wide eyed as she got over the shock of the cold water drenching her. With that the poor girl awkwardly stood, trying to shake herself of some of it, cheeks a terrible red as her drawing fell to the grass, ruined.

Sam didn't like that, didn't like it one bit. So he nudged Dean awake, and before he could protest, pointed out the jerks still laughing at her. Ah hell, now they'd started throwing grass and leaves. "Dean, Dean… They're messing that girl arou-"

And with that the older Winchester sighed harshly, making his way over to the neighboring tree and shouting all the way. For his age, Dean was pretty fearsome looking (at least to Sam when he saw him angry) and could obviously pack a punch, so as soon as the 'I'll rip your lungs out' threat was let go of, Sam scampered after him. It was handy having an older brother that wasn't afraid to throw his weight around and shout a little.

As Dean walked after them a little in an effort for them not to come back, Sam shyly walked over to the girl to check if she was okay. By now wringing out her long dark curls, he smiled sheepishly before he asked, "Are you okay? I-I'm Sam, by the way, and, well, that's my brother, Dean."

She let out an appreciative little laugh, pushing the thick purple frames of her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm Darcy."


End file.
